


All Our Tomorrows

by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/pseuds/Sandrine%20Shaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glimpses of Rose, over the years: she doesn't know it yet, but it was always going to happen like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Our Tomorrows

_September 2017_

"Ah, Rose Weasley," the Sorting Hat says, and then there's a pause that's far too long. She waits for it to shout out ' _Gryffindor_!' like her father had always told her it would, but the ominous silence stretches and Rose suddenly feels less sure. 

"This is a difficult one," the Hat continues at last, contemplatively. She doesn't understand how it could possibly be so difficult. Her father told her that six generations of Weasleys have all been sorted into Gryffindor, and her mum was a Gryffindor as well. The Hat seems to have heard that objection, because it says, slightly crossly, "You don't just _inherit_ a house."

"Besides," it goes on, "your mother, I remember, would have made a fine Ravenclaw! I can see shards of that in you as well. You prefer to seek knowledge instead of rushing head-first into danger. Even though… there's so much great potential in you… If you were in Slytherin—"

_Not Slytherin!_ she thinks, panicked, imagining her father's reaction. She's heard him speak of Slytherin and the people who emerge from that house, and it was never kindly. He would be heartbroken to see her sorted there.

"Very well then," the Hat says, with an air of finality. And aloud, it announces, "RAVENCLAW!"

As she's making her way to her chair, still disappointed at not being able to join her cousins at the Gryffindor table, Rose vows to never, ever tell a person that she was almost sorted into Slytherin. 

It's a vow she will break, five years later, revealing the choice the Hat gave her to no other than Draco Malfoy. But first-year Ravenclaw Rose Weasley doesn't know yet that her divided house allegiances might be useful to her one day, and she glumly sits down among kids she doesn't know, who look so much more comfortable at the Ravenclaw table than she does.

* * *

_June 2021_

It's impossible to spend four years at Hogwarts together and not know someone, even when you aren't in the same year and your fathers weren't notorious childhood enemies. But still, for the longest time, Rose knows a lot more _of_ Scorpius than she actually _knows_ him. Maybe it would have been different had she been sorted into Gryffindor, given their infamous rivalry with Slytherin. But she's a Ravenclaw; all her friends are in Ravenclaw, and so are the people she competes with because that's how it is in this house: everyone's forever trying to outsmart everyone else, and the other students are just not enough of a match to matter. 

The only class they share with the Slytherins is Astronomy, and she doesn't think she has ever heard the Malfoy boy say a single word during any of their classes. She doesn't take him for a quiet timid type, not by his reputation, anyway; he probably just doesn't care all that much for the subject. She can't blame him. 

What she knows of him is something else, though. Her dad speaks the name 'Malfoy' with a kind of revulsion that makes her more than a little curious as to where exactly the animosity comes from. According to him, Scorpius Malfoy has to be just as much of a "treacherous little git" as his father. Rose's mum tends to roll her eyes at him and tell him that he's being unreasonable, seeing as he has never even spoken to the boy, but he just says, "I don't need to. With Malfoy raising him, what do you expect?"

All things considered, it should make Rose eager to try to find out for herself what Scorpius Malfoy is like – and it did, at first. After her Easter holidays in first year, she came up with a clever little plan that saw them crashing together as he rounded the corner on the way to the Great Hall. The stacks of books each of them were carrying scattered to the floor, and Rose held her breath. Part of her – the part that believed in her father's speculations about the boy's personality – expected him to lash out at her with insults, while the rest of her secretly hoped they'd strike up a conversation. What really happened was an utterly disappointing, though: Scorpius bent down to retrieve his books and handed her hers, muttering a quick, "Sorry about that," and trudged off. She stared after him, feeling a sharp pang of disappointment: somehow, she never expected him to be _boring_. 

She would tell herself that he isn't worth her while, but the truth (which she only reluctantly admits to herself) is that she hates being ignored – and she has no interest in a repeat performance of the incident, so she never tries to approach him again.

She listens when the others talk about him, though, and the mentions of his name among her friends and fellow housemates grow more frequent over time. "It will be harder to beat Slytherin next week now that Malfoy's replaced Rogers as their Seeker," Helga Corner tells Dennis Bones over breakfast. The Davidson boys joke over something Malfoy supposedly has said to Professor Zabini that earned him detentions for an entire month. Two weeks before the end of fourth year, Mina Parkinson throws a big fit in the Great Hall, and soon the entire school knows that she and Malfoy dated for about two weeks before he ditched her. Maybe it's because Parkinson repeatedly breaks into tears and storms out of classes in the course of the next couple of days, but everyone is very quick to cast Malfoy as the villain in this little drama. Rose can't say she feels very sorry for the girl, though; Mina's a bully and a notorious drama queen, and if Malfoy's dumped her, he probably had his reasons.

* * *

_September 2021_

It always takes a while to get used to the moving staircases again when you return to school after the summer break. It must be even worse for students from Muggle families, who are used to inanimate objects being… well, inanimate; but even to Rose it's still somewhat strange. 

It's just a stupid slip: she hears Helga calling out her name behind her and she turns while taking a step, and suddenly, there's no solid ground under her foot and she loses balance. A startled cry is torn from her lips as she falls, but the impact is surprisingly soft and painless. There's a moment of disorientation before she quickly checks whether she hurt herself, but apparently, she survived the incident without any injuries. 

When she looks up, she sees Scorpius Malfoy standing before her, his wand still mid-air. He must have spoken a cushioning spell to break her fall.

"It seems you still haven't learned to watch where you're going," he says, but his tone, while mocking, lacks the malice the statement suggests. "I'm not sure if evolving from running into people to falling down the stairs counts as an improvement." He holds out a hand to help her up.

Scrambling to her feet, she laughs a little shakily. Absent-mindedly, she finds herself surprised he remembered their encounter in first year. It seems to be a lifetime ago. "Well, I didn't fall down the stairs on purpose."

It's only when he raises an eyebrow and asks, "And when you ran into me, that was on purpose?" that she realizes what she said. The heat she feels rising to her cheeks has nothing to do with the adrenalin from the fall. 

"Thanks," she says, deciding the best (well, really, the _only_ ) way to go is to ignore his question. It's not the smoothest evasion technique, but it works just as well because he's grinning and shaking his head. 

"You're welcome. Rose, right?"

The smile on her face stretches widely on its own volition, and there's nothing she can possibly do about it. "Yeah." It's only now that she realizes that she still hasn't let go of his hand. Or maybe he hasn't let go of hers.

They're fifteen. That's all it takes to fall in love.

* * *

_April 2022_

She never cared much for Quidditch, to her father's vast disappointment (though he has Hugo to make up for her lack of interest), but she gradually learns to appreciate the stands and the way they shield you from curious eyes.

Lying in the grass underneath with Scorpius beside her, she traces aimless patterns on his hand with her fingertips. Easter holidays are fast approaching, and she hates the idea of not being in touch with him for the entire duration of the break, so she's trying to make up for it by spending every second of their spare time together. 

"You could at least write to me," Scorpius suggests, like they didn't have this conversations five times before. He's nothing if not persistent.

"Yeah, right. And how would your dad react if he found out just who the girl sending love letters to his son is?"

"He'd absolutely hate it," he says, entirely too enthusiastically, and she has to laugh at how much the idea of his father finding out about them seems to excite him.

"Admit it, you're only dating me to get back at your father!" She's joking, but there's a grain of genuine worry underneath it that he must have heard because he suddenly grows serious, and when he says, "I would want to be with you even if you were a pureblood Slytherin," it sounds like a solemn vow.

She laughs again, relieved. "I _am_ a pureblood, you git! Mostly, anyway. Not that it matters." _And I could have been in Slytherin_ , flashes quickly through her mind, but she bites her lips before the words can leave her mouth. It's become such a habit to keep this secret that it would feel wrong to reveal it, even when she knows that Scorpius won't care one way or the other.

Scorpius grins and tells her, "Yeah, well, you're a Weasley. I think that's a lot worse than being a Muggle-born in my father's book."

* * *

_August 2022_

She wakes up because there's suddenly a rustle of noise in the house, disturbing the nocturnal quietness. Beside her, Scorpius stirs.

"Wha?"

Sitting up, she listens and hears voices outside the room and before she can say anything, the door is flung open and bright light hits her in the eyes. "Sorry, love, just wanted to let you know we're back ea—" a melodious female voice, presumably Mrs. Malfoy's, says, then stops abruptly and speaks a _lumos_ spell that turns the room into brilliant white light.

_This is not good_ , Rose thinks, the same moment she hears Scorpius mutter a soft, "Crap!" under his breath.

"Would you care to introduce the young lady?" Mrs. Malfoy's voice is frosty now, and when her eyes travel over Rose, she feels uncomfortably naked in her white underwear. She self-consciously reaches to gather her t-shirt from the floor and slips it on. 

She doesn't wait for Scorpius to speak for her, though, even when her voice is not as firm as she wants it to be when she says, "Hi. I'm Rose."

"I thought you wouldn't be home before Tuesday," Scorpius says, and Rose wishes he'd just shut up before he makes the situation even worse. It turns out that it doesn't need him to do that, though, because right then his father turns up in the doorway behind his wife, a storm brewing on his face the moment he spots her.

Mrs. Malfoy half turns her head, addressing her husband. "Draco, our son wants us to meet Rose," she says, all exaggerated, fake politeness that makes it plain how upset she is with Scorpius and, by extension, Rose.

Her husband seems to be inclined to play along, giving Rose a mocking courteous nod. "Ms. Weasley." 

"She's my girlfriend," Scorpius says. It's a pre-emptive strike, obviously, but it's also a bit of a silly thing to say in this situation. 

Rose can't hold back the nervous little chuckle. "I think your parents might have guessed that, Scorp."

"Yeah, well, she's my girlfriend and I invited her here," he repeats, sulkily. "None of this is her fault, so don't start in on her!"

Before her husband can give the sharp rebuke he doubtlessly was just about to give, Mrs. Malfoy overrides him. "We're not 'starting in' on anyone, Scorpius. But you can't expect us to be pleased when you secretly sneak girls into our house when we're away."

"Particularly Weasley girls," Mr. Malfoy adds, the way he spits out the name sounding so remarkably like her father when he says 'Malfoy' that Rose almost laughs. But then he turns to look at her again, and the laughter dies in her throat before it has the chance to bubble up. "Pray tell, do your parents know that you're here?"

"It's not like I secretly snuck out of the house."

She could swear that his lips just gave a little twitch at that, but his voice is hard and serious: "That's not quite what I asked, was it?" 

Scorpius butts in, saying "Dad!" in that exasperated drawl of his, but his father holds up a hand to silence him. Rose shrinks a bit further into the cushions, crossing her arms defensively in front of her. "They think I'm staying at Uncle Harry's for the night," she mutters sulkily when Mr. Malfoy's piercing glare doesn't waver.

At this point, his wife interferes. "And how do you think your parents will react when they find out you're not where you said you would be? They'll assume Merlin knows what happened to you on your way there! At your age, you should have the mind to see what you're putting your parents through. You're scaring them half to death!" Somehow, Rose has the impression that Mrs. Malfoy is speaking from experience. She sounds so much like Rose's mum, it's unbelievable; but then, she thinks maybe all mothers are like this. "You'll floo home right away and let your parents know you're safe!"

"But Mum," Scorpius says, "It's the middle of the night! Can't she stay until morning at least? She'll probably scare her parents even more if she suddenly turns up now!"  
It's a clever argument, and Rose gives him a quick, thankful smile.

"All right," his father finally agrees, after a moment of silence that stretches uncomfortably long. "She can stay the night. She'll return first thing after breakfast, though. And she'll sleep in the guest room." Scorpius looks as if he wants to protest, but his father only has to look at him to stifle the objection. 

Mrs. Malfoy still doesn't look too happy, but when she speaks to Rose again, her tone has softened. "Come on then, darling. I'll make your bed." 

All things considered, Rose decides as she follows Mrs. Malfoy out of the room, Scorpius's parents have taken the whole thing a lot better than expected. She tells Scorpius so when he steals into the guest room half an hour later.

"Yeah, they're all right, I guess," he says in an off-hand manner, and she has to agree. From the way her father talked about Mr. Malfoy, she expected him to be worse than Professor Zabini, who has a well-earned reputation of treating anyone who isn't a pureblood and a Slytherin like they have no right to breathe the same air as him. But then Scorpius leans over to kiss her and their fathers or Professor Zabini are the last things on her mind. – At least until the sharp cough that comes from the doorway has Scorpius and her jump apart guiltily. 

"Scorpius. Your room," Mr. Malfoy orders. His tone leaves no room for argument. Giving her hand a final squeeze, Scorpius scrambles out. She doesn't know whether she expects his father to follow him out or to stay and give her a lecture, but it turns out that he's not going to do either. He stays in the doorway, staring at her with an inscrutable gaze. His eyes are hard and cold, but he doesn't seem to be angry, and she's rather glad of that. Somehow, she doesn't think Mr. Malfoy is a person whose anger passes quickly or smoothly. 

"Lying to your parents, striking friendships with Slytherins, sneaking boys into your bedroom… that's not very Gryffindor," he comments mildly.

She's so tired of everyone always assuming she'd be in Gryffindor just because her parents were, so her reply is a bit snappier than necessary. "Why would it be? I'm in Ravenclaw." As soon as the words are out, she winces at her sharp tone. Antagonizing Scorpius's father will not get her anywhere.

He doesn't seem to have taken offence, though, because he's chuckling. "You are? I'm sure that went down well with your father."

"If mum hadn't interfered, he'd probably have disowned me." She mimics her father's voice. " _First Weasley in seven generations not to be sorted into Gryffindor. Blimey, Rosie, grandpa will go barmy when he hears about this!_ " Mr. Malfoy looks vaguely amused. Hesitating for only a moment, she decides that on this particular occasion, revealing the one thing she's always been careful to keep secret from everyone might actually win her an advantage. "Actually, the Sorting Hat wanted to put me into Slytherin first. My dad would've had a stroke!" It feels weird to share this, after all this time. "Um, please don't tell anyone. I kind of always kept that to myself," she adds.

Mr. Malfoy's smile does nothing to soften his pointy features. It's the kind of smile intending to let her know that he knows what she's doing. If anything her attempts at manipulating him seem to amuse him. "You would have made a fine Slytherin."

She realizes that, coming from him, it's a compliment, and she accepts it with a grin and a shrug. "I'm okay in Ravenclaw."

"I don't doubt that. You obviously inherited your mother's brains and your father's temper." 

For a moment, all she can do is stare at him dumbfounded. She thinks it probably wouldn't be a good idea to tell him that Uncle Harry once said exactly the same thing to her.

* * *

_May 2023_

Hidden under the Invisible Cloak she borrowed from her cousin, she silently slips into the Headmistress's office behind her father and Mr. Malfoy. Hugo and Scorpius are each occupying one of the chairs opposite Professor McGonagall, looking glum and defiant. Rose has heard about what happened, of course – after all, it's not every day the Gryffindor seeker first takes a Bludger from the team's own Beater, and later is punched out by the Slytherin seeker after the match. It makes no more sense to Rose than it does to anyone else. She can see Scorpius attacking a rival seeker; his temper tends to run hot, especially out on the pitch. But why Hugo, of all people, would deliberately throw a Bludger at Damian Smith and ruin the game for their team is a mystery to her. 

And for once, she couldn't get a word out of neither her brother nor her boyfriend about what exactly had happened. It's driving her mad, knowing they're keeping this from her.

"You must understand the seriousness of the situation," McGonagall says sternly. Both Rose's dad and Mr. Malfoy are looking quite grim. Hugo has his gaze lowered, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, while Scorpius stares boldly at the Headmistress. "If you continue to refuse to talk about what happened on the pitch to make you assault Mr. Smith, I'll be forced to suspend both of you from school for the time being."

"I don't see why Hugo is here at all," Rose's father objected. "It would be bloody stupid of him to deliberately throw the Gryffindor Seeker off his broom." He turns to his son. "You probably aimed for Malfoy here and missed, didn't you?"

McGonagall seems quite exasperated. "I'm afraid there's no mistaking as to where young Mr. Weasley aimed the Bludger. It is the why that eludes me."

"Well, speak up, Scorpius." It's the first thing Rose has heard Mr. Malfoy say since he turned up at Hogwarts tonight, and even though his tone is quiet and level, it's impossible to miss just how furious he is. At whom, though – his son, McGonagall, or perhaps her dad – Rose isn't entirely sure. 

To her surprise, it is not Scorpius who speaks, but Hugo. And even though he looks as if he might start to cry any minute now, his voice is firm and defiant. "He deserved it."

"What was that, Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall asks sharply.

"It was about Rose. Smith said—he said bad stuff about her. That she was a… a stupid mixed-blood slut and that he'd like to— that he would—" Hugo stops, unable to go on, and turns away. 

"He deserved far more than a Bludger to his ribs and a black eye," Scorpius adds, quietly but viciously. A small part of Rose wants nothing more than to go find Smith and blacken his other eye but most of her just thinks, _That's_ it _? They went and risked suspension just because some idiot boy badmouthed me on the Quidditch pitch? How stupid can you be?!_

"What? But why would the Smith boy try to antagonize his own Beater during the match?" her father asks in confusion. But Rose is barely listening. 

Forgetting the Invisible Cloak or that she's supposed to be in her dorm, she huffs, "Oh, you've got to be kidding!"

Five heads snap around to where her disembodied voice comes from, and she realizes her slip. She can't bring herself to care about it, though. The cloak slides off as she strides over to where Hugo and Scorpius are sitting. "For Merlin's sake, who do you two think I am? Some delicate flower whose honour you have to defend? I'm perfectly capable of looking out for myself without a brother or a boyfriend fighting my battles for me. I would have found a cleverer way to get back at Smith, and one that wouldn't have resulted in almost getting suspended either! How can you be so—"

"Ms Weasley, that's quite enough," the Headmistress's voice thunders, silencing Rose's angry tirade. "Even though you do have a point. However, I should think you might want to get back to Ravenclaw Tower before any further members of your family run the risk of suspension."

She gives Rose a pointed look, who blushes slightly under the weight of the stare. The fury drains out of her as quickly as it started. "Yes, Professor McGonagall. I'm sorry." As she gathers the Invisible Cloak and makes her way out of the room with heated cheeks, she catches Mr. Malfoy's amused gaze.

With a final glare at Scorpius and Hugo, she lets herself out. Closing the door behind herself, she hears her father faintly saying, "Boyfriend?"

She smiles and thinks that, somehow, this wasn't the worst time to let that drop.

* * *

_June 2024_

When Emma Pitt stands before parents, teachers and the Hogwarts class of '24 and makes the graduation speech, it's the first time Rose is actually glad that she didn't make Head Girl. The only thing she hates more than sitting and listing to grand speeches is making them. She's good with words, all right, but anyone who knows her will attest that her strengths are quick-witted comebacks and not well-prepared pathos. (Besides, she got her own back by coming out on top of the graduation class – and well ahead of Emma – with her N.E.W.T. results.)

All the same, Professor McGonagall insisted that every one of the graduates would say a few words themselves as they go to collect their certificates, and Rose is beginning to regret that she hasn't prepared anything. 

She sits rigidly between her parents, gnawing on her lower lip. Her mind is blank. Her eyes drift restlessly across the crowd, coming to rest on Scorpius who is placed on the stands opposite her along with the other Slytherins. He smiles at her, and right then, she really wishes she could hold his hand. It's with this thought in mind that she makes her way through the rows and to the podium when her name is called. There's applause and jeers, McGonagall shakes her hand and gives her the graduation certificate, and then, there's silence. 

It's as if even the air around her has become still. Aware of everyone's eyes on her, she's never felt so oddly out of her body, and at the same time, she's never felt so much like herself. She smiles, and speaks:

"I have learned a lot in the last seven years, as I'm sure everyone who graduates today can say of themselves. But there's one lesson I learned that I didn't really become aware of before today, and that's that we place too much of an importance in our houses, assuming that house allegiances will dictate our identity. Except, they don't, really. When I came here, seven years ago, I expected to be sorted into Gryffindor because, as my dad will never tire of telling me, six generations of Weasley children before me were exclusively Gryffindors." She throws her father a quick smile. "Apparently, the Sorting Hat didn't think I'd make a good Gryffindor but instead, it gave me the choice between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. In the interest of not being disowned, I decided for Ravenclaw, but the point is – it was my choice, and I don't think I would have turned out to be a different person if I had chosen differently."

"I'm not saying the house system is pointless. I'm merely asking you not to make more of them than they are. House rivalries might be an important part of school life, but that's over for us now, and holding on to them now makes them nothing but foolish, petty prejudices. When it comes down to it, we are not our houses. Our houses are what we make of them."

She finishes and takes a deep breath, smiling at Scorpius, who gives her a thumbs-up as the crowd applauds.

When she settles back down on the bench between her parents, her mum draws her into a hug. "That was beautiful, Rosie." Hearing how proud she sounds makes Rose happier than her N.E.W.T. score did.

"The Sorting Hat wanted to put you into Slytherin?" her father asks, incredulous, and Rose rolls her eyes. It figures that he entirely missed the point of her speech. Her mum must have sent him an angry look, because he flinches and quickly adds, "Great speech, though."

* * *

_May 2026_

She finds Scorpius sitting at the breakfast table reading the Daily Prophet. When she enters the room, he puts down the paper and looks at her – or at least she thinks he does, because he's backlit and the sun is bright and blinding and she cannot make out his expression. She doesn't know what he's looking at, exactly, but his silence is a little unnerving.

Just as she's about to ask him what's wrong, he speaks. 

"Marry me," he says, in that way of his that's half-demand, half-question and more often than not has her brush him off with a good-natured 'bugger off' or any variation thereof. 

His words trigger a memory, something buried deep in her subconscious, long-forgotten: standing with her parents on platform 9¾, ready to board Hogwarts Express for the first time, and her father pointing out a blonde boy a short distance away. She suddenly remembers his words as if he'd only spoken them yesterday, and she laughs and laughs and cannot stop.

Scorpius looks nonplussed and a little hurt so, still shaking with laughter, she says, "Yes. Yes, I will," and she thinks about a phrase she's seen in a Muggle book: _self-fulfilling prophecy_. It was always going to happen like this. 

Scorpius continues to look at her in confusion. "Okay, great. Care to let me know what's so funny?"

Maybe one day, she'll explain to him.

* * *

  
_A good book has no ending._  
(R. D. Cumming)


End file.
